It was Sunday afternoon; my bottom was still tender from the spanking Becky had given me the previous evening. There was definitely a different air in the house. Becky's attitude toward me was peremptory, as she did not ask me to do the dishes or take out the trash as she usually would, instead she ordered me to do so.

Later I heard her talking on the phone. "Hello, Glenda. I thought I would call you and arrange for us to come over this evening so that Rick can apologize to you. Oh, that is fine, in fact it is perfect. Yes, from the way he is carrying himself, and sitting down, I can tell that his little bottom is still very sore. Oh yes. He should definitely get another spanking from you. I will give him a few days to recover from my session and we'll arrange a time when you will be able to give him all you wish."

They talked for another half hour or so, but my fate had been sealed, and I didn't pay much attention to the balance of the conversation.

The week passed too quickly as far as I was concerned. I wondered what it would be like to be put across the lap of my wife's best friend. The embarrassment that would accompany it was too much to imagine. I hated the thought of it, and at the same time I there was a fascination I could never hope to explain. Most of all, I realized I deserved what ever I was going to get for disrespecting my wife.

Meanwhile, Becky's attitude toward me continued to leave little doubt that she had taken charge of this house, and that I had best obey her. As we finished dinner on Saturday, Becky told me to wash the dishes, and get ready to go over to Glenda's. I don't know if she knew I had overheard the phone conversation, but I do know I was very nervous.

We walked out to the car and Becky surprised me by walking to the driver's side. She waited with a frown on her face until it dawned on me that I had better open her door for her. Without a word, I went to the passenger's side. Becky smiled, "You learn very quickly, dear. From now on I shall do the driving and you will sit right where you are. I'm glad to see you are adjusting to seeing me as the boss, and as your disciplinarian. You do see it that way, don't you?" Her clear blue eyes showed steely resolve. My mouth was dry as I replied "Yeah, Becky, you are the boss in our home." She chuckled, "And?" she asked. For an instant I did not know what she wanted, then I said, "And that is the way it should be." She raised an eyebrow, and I added, "And that is the way I want it." She put the car in gear as she said, "That's a good boy. When we get to Glenda's house she is going to punish you and I want you to cooperate well. Remember, whatever she decides to do, she has my blessing."

We arrived at the Borton's house and Becky rang the bell. Glenda answered the door. I looked at her and again remembered why allowed my eyes to linger too long the last time. It was truly beautiful. Then it truly hit me. I AM PROBABLY GOING TO BE SPANKED BY THIS WOMAN.

"Come in, come in." Glenda said, "I have put Jerry to bed early, as what we have to do is none of his business. Sit down, Rick," she ordered me, as she took a chair directly across from the one she indicated for me. Becky, grinning broadly, sat to one side. Glenda wasted no time. "You like my legs, Ricky, hmmm? Well, little boy, you are going to be very close to them before too long. How dare you make a comment to me like the one you made last week? How dare you!" The look on her face made it clear that there was really nothing I could say, except a weak, "I'm sorry".

Her smile was disdainful, "Oh, I'm know that Becky made you very sorry, and take my word for it, you are going to be a lot sorrier." She glanced toward an end table, which I had not noticed before. On it sat a large paddle with holes in it, and a rattan cane. She pulled her skirt up revealing those gorgeous legs as she told me, "Get up and bring me that paddle." I glanced from Glenda to Becky and back to Glenda. Neither of them showed any particular emotion, just satisfied determination.

I presented the paddle to Glenda, and waited. I did not wait long, Glenda unbuckled and lowered my trousers in almost a single motion, and without stopping, she stripped down my underpants. "Now, Ricky, I am going to give you the spanking of your life. I WILL teach you to respect women. We are not in the world for men's amusement. We are not here to serve you. In fact, we will tell you what to do and punish you when you do not obey, and the sooner you realize it the better. Now get across my lap."

I knew better than hesitate. "Now you are veerry close to my pretty legs, aren't you? Do you like it?" I knew she wanted an answer, so I said, "Yes Maam, I like it. I am where I belong." Her tone was mellow, "Becky told me you were adjusting to being subject to female discipline quite well."

With that she landed the first swat. This was no warm-up. She delivered a continuous barrage of spanks, harder than any Becky had given me a week earlier. I was thrashing around on her lap, yelping and begging for mercy before she had reached a dozen. She stopped for a moment to tell me, "Ricky, I know this is hurting, and that's good, it is supposed to. Now quit gyrating and simply take what I am going to give you, because you WILL take what I am going to give you even if Becky has to help hold you in place. Do you understand?" She did not wait for an answer, the spanking resumed and I did my best to lie still, but I could not.

I was crying and begging for mercy as Glenda delivered swat after swat after swat in rapid succession, each one seemingly harder than the previous one. "Becky" I heard her say, "hold his legs still. He is making me very angry by his childish squirming. He cannot even take a spanking like a man." I felt Becky's firm hands behind my knees, as Glenda resumed my spanking. It was not long after that that I felt Becky relax her grip, as she sensed my complete surrender. I lay across Glenda's lap sobbing as she completed the spanking she felt I needed.

"Get up, Rick, and bend over the back of that chair and grab the front legs. I would advise you not to change that position until you are told." With tears streaming down my face, I did as she instructed, knowing that Glenda intended to finish off with the cane.

"What I am going to do now is really going to be painful, Rick, but you simply have to learn manners" With that she delivered four stinging swings of the cane across my right buttock, and quickly changed sides and delivered four more to the left. I shrieked with pain. My bottom, already fiery hot from Glenda's paddle felt like it was stung by bees, beyond anything I had imagined on the way over. But now it apparently was over. Glenda told me to stand in the corner while she and and Becky sat down nearby, sounding very relaxed and enjoying their conversation. I could not hear what they were saying, but I heard them chuckle and giggle, and laugh, and had no doubt that Glenda was giving Becky some sisterly advice on disciplining men.

Finally, I heard Becky say, "All right, pull up your undies and pants. Time to go home and put you to bed." Sitting was very painful and the ride home was excruciating. Becky took me right up stairs, undressed me and put me into bed. As she left the room, she said, "Enjoy looking at pretty legs, dear, but I am sure you will remember from now on that their best purpose is to provide a place for a naughty boy to lie while a woman spanks him."

Lucille and I had been married for about twenty years, and had two boys, ages 17 and 15. My wife is a school teacher and a stern disciplinarian. While she cannot paddle in school, she has never hesitated to spank the boys, and, as a result, we have two very well behaved young men. In fact, the oldest received his latest spanking (over his strenuous objections that he is "too old") the day after his seventeenth birthday for staying out too late the previous night.

Lucille has always insisted on administering the boys' discipline, saying that it will be beneficial to their future marriages if the are accustomed to accepting correction from a woman. She had, however, never indicated any desire to spank me even though we frequently argued and bickered, perhaps because she usually won. I, on the other hand, had frequently wondered what it would be like to be put across her lap. One day I stumbled across the DWC website. After perusing it, I waited for an opportunity to suggest that Lucille visit it. When I did, she got a look on her face that I could not decipher, and said that she would check it.

A few days later she called me into her study, told me that she had read every word on the site, then, with an enigmatic smile, asked me if this is what I wanted. I guess I blushed a little and said, "I think so." Her smile changed to a look of disapproval. "I think so is not good enough. I have no intention of catering to some sexual fantasy of yours. If and when I spank you it will be because you have submitted totally to me, and that, henceforth, I wear the pants in this family. I will give the orders; you will obey them. I will give you a daily and weekly list of chores; you will do them or be punished. I will handle ALL of our finances; you will give me your paycheck, and I will give you what I think is a sufficient allowance. I will allow NO profanity in my house. You will make no arrangements to be with your buddies without first getting my permission, and you are to let them know that you HAVE to get my permission. Which brings me to what will probably be the most difficult for you. We will make it obvious to all our friends through our conversations and actions in their presence that I am the head of this house. I won't tell them that I spank you unless you force me to, but we will leave no doubts as to whose in charge. I am certain that I will add other items from time to time as is pleases me, but this should give you a good idea of what I desire. I have put up with the bickering for the boys' sakes, but in a couple of years I was going to give you a choice of this or divorce. Do I make myself clear? If you are willing to submit to me, you are to ask me for your FIRST spanking, and, believe me, you will get it! You have a week to accept my terms. Otherwise, we go on for only two more years as we have, and then you will get the choice I mentioned. You will be happier if you submit now. You may leave." I started to object, but her eyes were like steel. "I said 'Leave' NOW" All I could manage was to mumble, "Yes ma'am"

I cannot describe the following week - sweating, worrying, fantasizing, and finally surrendering. That evening after dinner and the boys had left for a ballgame, I said the fateful words: "Lucille, I want my first spanking." She gave me a knowing look and said, "I was expecting this. That is why I gave the boys money for the game. Wash the dishes and come to my study." I washed and dried the dishes. Then knocked on her study door. "Come in, dear" When I entered, she was sitting in a straight back chair, her skirt folded neatly back, and the paddle that I had made for her to use with the boys was lying in her lap. "Come here, dear" she indicated a spot to her right. I went over and started to unbuckle my belt, only to have Lucille slap my hands. "I'll take care of that." She said. She lowered my pants and my underpants. I was embarrassed by my obvious arousal. This time her smile was almost wicked. "That little thing will not be as perky in a few minutes. Now lay over my left knee." I hesitated, and she almost cooed, "I can understand your feelings, dear. You stand there now as my husband, but you will get up after this spanking, my obedient little boy. Believe me, you will be much happier than you think right now. Enough talk, get over my knee NOW"

I lowered myself into position and felt her firm left hand on my back. At the same time I felt the pressure of her right leg across the back of my legs. She gave me about a dozen hard swats, then stopped. Almost mockingly she asked, "Is this what you expected? I hope so because I am going to thoroughly enjoy this." With that she resumed the spanking. I don't know how many swats I took before beginning to squirm and asking her to stop. "Stop? I will decide when to stop, and, believe me that is a long way off. Before I stop you will have quit squirming, started crying and delivered yourself totally to my authority. I am a little sorry for you, but that is what you asked for, and that is exactly what I am going to give you."

She pressed a little more firmly with her left hand and increased the pressure of her right leg, and continued with the spanking. The swats rained down in a terrible rhythm; what started as a glow in my buttocks became a flame. The paddle continued its rhythm and the flame became an all-consuming fire. I was beyond begging; my crying had deteriorated into incoherent blubbering. I lay across her lap, the pressure to keep me there was no longer needed. I simply lay there, completely submitted to taking whatever she wished to deliver. She did finally stop and pushed me off her lap.

Standing over me, she said, "Get up, I have something for you to do before you stand in the little boy's corner. Sit down and rewrite this in your handwriting." She handed me a typed letter in which I confessed my total lack of self-control and asked her to assume the roll of my mother, spanking me whenever she felt I needed it. I was in no condition to question her. I did ask if I could write it, standing, and was told that she wanted good penmanship and I was to SIT.

After I completed it she read it over and asked me how I would like copies of it sent to all of our friends. The horror must have shown in my face, because she said, "Don't worry. That will not happen unless, you defy me, even once, when I tell you to get across my lap, or if you are ever foolish enough to try to leave me. Clear? I'm sure it is. Now get in your corner.

I stood in the corner for the next half hour while Lucille laughed and joked on the phone with one of her girlfriends. When she hung up, she ordered me to bed for the evening, saying that she was going to a movie. I heard her leave the house, but could not bring myself to get out of bed. I simply wanted to do as I had been told. When she came home well after midnight, she asked me if I had stayed in bed, and when I assured her that I had, she smiled warmly and said, "You are learning to be a good little boy and that is what I expect of you." She did not delay the "Most difficult thing for me" The next weekend we had three other couples over for Bridge. Before they arrived, Lucille gave me what she termed "A nice little spanking" to remind me of how I was to behave. From the beginning of the evening, Lucille ordered me to "get this" or "do that" and I quickly complied. One of the ladies remarked on my willingness to serve, and Lucille simply told her that "Ralph and I have an understanding and he knows that I am the boss. Isn't that right, Ralph?" I knew better than fudge, and said, "We decided that there can only be one boss in the house and felt that it is best if that person is the woman."

There were some grimaces from the men, and a few chuckles and "How nice!" from the women. A couple of them said they would have to "talk" with their husbands. At the end of the evening, after the guests had left, Lucille told me that I had been a good little boy, and that it would be easier from now on, now that our relationship was known. It has been. My life has been easier. There is no arguing. Very simply, Lucille decides what I am to do, and I do it. If I displease her, I am punished. I still get to bowl and play golf with my buddies, but I must get her permission, and sometimes, quite capriciously, she says, "No!" Perhaps she enjoys hearing me tell Rick or Henry that my wife won't let me this week. She runs our home and I am glad she does.

Ralph

REWARD FOR WEB SURFING

Dear Aunt Kay,

After checking the history on our computer I found your site. I was very intrigued. It seems my husband has been visiting yours and other sites that are similar. My husband in the past has spoken about spanking and we have played around with it in the past but nothing like your site encourages. That's All changed now.

Everything came to a head at once. I found these sites and also I had come to my wits end with my husbands procrastinating and behavior. I studied your site thoroughly, put 2 and 2 together and that added up to a Very Sound Spanking for my husband, Glen.

Glen may have thought he wanted a spanking but after I let him up he was singing a different tune. And I must admit so was I. After seeing your site I was much more open to the idea of disciplining my husband (for real) and after that first spanking I really got rid of a lot of frustrations, I've seen a positive change in Glen and I actually love the feeling of power and control I have as I redden his cute round bottom!

Here's how it happened that first time: Friday night last month, Glen's out with his friends late. I check the computer history and get very aquatinted with your site, especially the "tips and methods." I don't say anything but have an attitude on Saturday. Saturday, my husband wants to stay home to do yardwork and the bills (admirable) while my good friend and neighbor Shirley and I go to the beach. Sat. afternoon, Shirley and I return from the beach. Yardwork is incomplete (excuse: it got too hot) and bills have not been touched (promises to do them later). I'm getting mad now. I order Glen outside to put the garden tools away with a hard smack to his bottom and the warning, "You're gonna get it!" "OOH," say's Shirley, "somebody's in trouble," she giggles. I go and check the computer again to find more surfing of adult sites. Now I'm fuming. I call my husband inside. He comes in. "We are going to have a serious discussion," I said. Then I gave him two hard smacks to his bottom and sent him to our bedroom to wait for me. "Wo! He is in trouble," Shirley comments. I call to my husband as he's going in the bedroom, "And take that bathing suit off while your waiting." I ask Shirley to excuse us and I'll call her later about dinner. "Are you OK?" she asks. "I will be," I answered as I showed her out.

I went to the bedroom to find my husband still in his swimsuit. Get that suit off now I yelled. He did, while asking what was going on. I explained that I'd had it with his behavior, yadda yadda and then I grabbed his earlobe pulled him down over my knee on the bed and gave him a furious, fast, hand spanking that had him squirming all over. When I stopped, I held him down and lectured him on the new rules and punishment punctuating with hard slaps to his thighs. Do you understand? I smacked. Glen tried to reason with me only to get another complete spanking to his ass and thighs. "DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!" I asked again. This time he did.

I then let Glen up, but made him lie down on the bed. I was still mad but excited. I turned my husband face down, and had him move forward so his shoulders were hanging over the edge of the bed. After I had gotten my leather belt, I stood behind his arms so he was pinned down and then gave my husband a good beating with my strap till he started to tear up.

As I got my shower, I made Glen stand in the corner in the bathroom and he stayed there till I was dressed. He was then sent to start working on the bills, still bare bottomed. He was allowed to put a towel on when Shirley came to the door. She asked,"How'd everything work out?" "Fine for me," I answered, "Not so good for Glen. I'll tell you about it over dinner."

I then told my husband, "Those bills better be done and this house vacuumed by the time we get back if you don't want a repeat episode." Before we left I made it a point to say to Shirley, "I want to go to the mall, I need to buy a

wooden hairbrush!" During dinner I excused myself and called home to see how things were going and to tell Glen to remove the towel and that he was to remain barebottomed for the rest of the weekend. Barebottomed is now the norm for him unless I say otherwise.

That was the first of already quite a few spankings for my husband, who is now much better behaved. I told Shirley everything at dinner that night and she knows that I've spanked Glen since then. She was also quite helpful in finding a good wooden hairbrush. Glen was really mad when I told him that Shirley knew so I had to spank him. He became very understanding. I'm ecstatic and wish that I had found your sight a long time ago. I don't think Glen was ever really spanked before but I'm having lunch with his mother in a week and I may ask her. She has commented on the change she has seen in her son so I'm contemplating letting her in on it also, will see.

I hope this letter is not too long. I'm sure I'll be writing again as I still have a lot to share.

Thanks again,
Katrina

WHERE IT STARTED

Dear Aunt Kay, I've always been into spanking since I can remember. And though she didn't know it my mother accommodated me from the time I was around 14. I was an only child, Mom was divorced and has a large company, but she usually was always there for me. When she wasn't, it was usually her assistant and good friend Sherry who was.

At around 14 I started to get into trouble and Mom was getting frazzled. One day Mom was called by the school to come pick me up and she had to have a conference with the principal. Mom was in meetings all day so Sherry was allowed to come in her place. The principal discussed the possibility of suspension with Sherry, who in turn using her negotiating and business skills asked the principal, "If I give you my word that his behavior will change immediately will you forget about suspension? " "Of course" the principal answered, "but how can you guarantee a change, you are not his mother?" "No, but his mother and I respect each others opinions and I think I can persuade her to take Allen on a little trip," Sherry said.

"A trip where?" Mr.Deebert asked. Sherry looked at me and answered, "I think it's time for this young man to take his first trip across his mothers knee!" And if she won't I will, I gave you my word. I went numb from embarrassment as they both looked at me. I wanted to be excited on the way home but nerves wouldn't let me.

Sherry waited with me till Mom came home and more than once she reiterated her feelings about my behavior and told me she was going to see to it that I got what I needed. Mom came home and Sherry really emphasized the seriousness of the situation and then she told Mom of her promise to the principal and how she thought the situation could be remedied, immediately.

Mom agreed, excused us both from the living room and then took me upstairs. Once upstairs Mom let me know immediately who was in control with a smack in the mouth when I started to talk back. Mom then very calmly and naturally took down my jeans and underpants, put me over her lap and gave me my first spanking ever.

She spanked long and hard until I was crying. Then she let me up and still bare from the waist down, Mom lectured me. After the lecture Mom made me sit on my bed as she got a leather belt from the closet and set it next to me before going downstairs.

A couple minutes later footsteps came up the wooden steps. Into my room came Sherry, who while standing bent me under her arm and said, "Now you're really going to get a good beating young man." With the belt she did just that, just as Mom had instructed her.

From then on either Sherry or Mom disciplined me whenever I needed it. Three months after I was married, it was Mom who instructed my new wife on how to handle me properly.

Tom

IT'S ALL IN THE ROLL OF THE DICE

Dear Auntie Kay,

I first mailed you over a year ago, unsure and very nervous. I had discovered your site some time before I first mailed you, and what it portrayed certainly attracted me. And soon after I mailed you, and you replied, my lady, the love of my life (she is called Liz), saw your site too and was enthralled.

You asked in your initial reply to keep you informed, and if you will forgive the delay, I hope you will consider my story another success, another male changed for the better.

I ordered a paddle, one that Liz picked out, and a lifestyle kit, and these arrived surprisingly quickly. It took a while to set the boundaries, and we never actually filled out the contract (and we have yet to tie the knot, strangely, that is something which has not been discussed for months. I like to think our relationship has been strengthened to the point that a formal tying of the knot is no longer necessary. We`ll see), but we got there in the end. The rules are most definitely in place, and let me say how wonderful it is to be controlled by a strong and intelligent lady, and above all, a very fair lady.

To be honest, it is not the full DWC lifestyle, its about half way there (I like to think I would have been willing to go all the way, but Liz did not make that choice necessary, although read on and you will see that she has her little refinements). Her rules are not particularly onerous in terms of domestic chores and behaviour, but they are strictly enforced. Whenever she decides I have been naughty, or have transgressed, she puts me across her knee (and sometimes, I think she does it to work out her frustrations at somebody or something else. But she is in charge, and she does not have to explain to me the reason). Trousers down, but she lets me keep my pants up. She uses her hand and gives me between 25 and 50 slaps. She smacks hard, and I certainly know about it afterwards. Its embarrassing too, particularly if she makes me stand in the corner afterwards. But this is not enough to have changed me.

Liz is certainly aware of this too, and there is one little refinement she insisted on. Her reasoning - formidable female logic - is that if it is all just a game, then something of the essence will be missing. Her little refinement, the wildcard, is a set of dice. When its spanking time, she gets the dice out, and if it is a pair of sixes, its for real! Paddle, bare behind, the lot.

It doesn`t happen that often, (I`m glad to say!) but it is enough to keep me on my toes. And how right you are. Nothing, but nothing, could have prepared me for that first real spanking, and I know she could have smacked harder. To be honest, it did make me seriously reconsider the whole lifestyle, and do you know what it is that kept me on line. It was the look in Liz`s eye afterwards. She obviously knew what I was thinking, and what I saw was not mocking, not pity, not (for want of a better word) triumph. It was a look in her eyes that said "so its just a game to you after all". It made me realize that up to then it essentially had been.

That was about six months ago, and I`ve had three "double sixes" since. Its not something I think I will ever get used to and it is pretty awful, but the benefits to our relationship have been enormous. Liz still has to maintain discipline, but seldom for petty reasons (I do have my lapses though). We no longer argue (I wouldn`t dare!). I hope this does not appear too strange, but I am now subject to law. Liz`s law, woman`s law, and while nobody seeing me (or us) outside would ever realize it, I am subject to Liz`s law 24 hours a day. She just knows if I`ve transgressed, and acts accordingly.

But it has also brought out her gentle side, a side of her I thought I knew but didn`t. Its not something I could describe easily, but her true gentle side is wonderful. I suppose its because my puerile and childish side is no longer there.

Thank you, most sincerely.

Gerald (UK)

2/7/01 Dear Aunty Kay,

Thanks for the reply and I am not a little relieved at your charming reply, because I was not sure how it would go down. I waited so long to reply because, like I`m sure all novice couples, it was not initially clear how things would turn out, and I only wanted to report success. Had things petered out, I`m sure anything I had reported to you would have simply reflected my biases, and as such would not have been particularly instructive. But Liz has imposed rules which I am only now beginning to appreciate. I am starting to see the world through a woman`s eyes, understanding the behavior a woman finds acceptable and what a woman does not, particularly in how I relate to her. What most women simply put up with or accommodate, the DWC woman does not. And after the initial shock (I`m not going to insult your intelligence by pretending otherwise) and trepidation of a lady in charge, its something I would recommend to any man, really!

The dice though, were a stroke of genius. I would never have thought of them in a million years. They provide that element of fear without which no punishment can be real, by making severe punishment a real possibility. It stopped it becoming simply an erotic fantasy of mine. Don't get me wrong, Liz is an expert spanker (she`s had plenty of opportunity to hone her skills over the last year!) and after a session across her knee, its a few hours before I can sit down again. But despite the pain, I cannot suppress strong erotic feelings. I`m sorry, I just can`t (believe me, I try).

Liz, for her part, selected the paddle, but when it arrived, and we started out, she could not bring herself to wield it in the way a true DWC woman should. It was not what I expected, and I would be interested to know if this is an experience of other DWC women at the start. One bit of advice she did follow though was in enjoying herself. While she could not, at first bring herself to really thrash me with the paddle, she is a healthy, red blooded woman, and she thoroughly enjoys spanking me with her hand.

I was rather enjoying it too, and she realized that something had to be done. That's when she thought of the dice (it took about two months. She suggested other options, one of which that she be a DWC woman for one day a week, or every other day, but it was obvious that this would have turned it into even more of a game). I accepted this, because, as she knew it would, it appealed to the gambler in me (and in all men). A pair of sixes, I thought. 1 in 36, so what. How wrong I was!

That first real spanking was one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. It was almost two days before I was comfortable sitting down again, and I don't mind admitting I was in tears and crying like a little kid for her to stop. She didn't, and I know she was uncomfortable doing it for the first time, and that's when I realized the steel in her, when I saw for myself the true power of a woman. And I was surprised at how strong she can be. I must be about 60lb heavier than her, but she held me in place despite my struggling. I've never felt so embarrassed in my life, and I've never felt so truly naked in front of anybody before. It was a Wednesday that first session, and the next two days at work were not particularly comfortable. I don't know if colleagues noticed that I was finding any excuse I could to stay on my feet, but I was in agony and it was difficult keeping my mind in my work. From that moment on, things changed. Liz was the boss, absolutely, and the last vestiges of my old self, if I can put it like that, disappeared. In hindsight, its like boot camp. Being broken down and then built up again, built up into something better. That's what Liz has done to me, and I love her tenfold more for doing it.

And what else she has done (since that memorable evening, and now that she is confidently and totally in charge) is to inject her DWC activities with a touch of humour. We keep our DWC lifestyle to ourselves, but that does not prevent Liz from airing a few little in jokes. A couple of her female friends (she never does this in front of male acquaintances, because they would all assume that it was about sex) have heard her jokingly mention a "double six" to me. Perhaps they assume its some sort of sexual position, but they would be amazed if they knew what it really meant.

And one of her little jokes I must let you in on. Yours is not the only site that deals with dominant ladies, as you are well aware, but I think its fair to say that most of these others do not deal with the lifestyle aspects as completely as you do. There was an image in the gallery a few months ago that caught Liz`s eye so she installed it as the wallpaper on my PC as "a little reminder", with strict instructions not to remove it. Its an image that both frightens and excites me. Because the faces cannot be seen, its very easy to imagine that it is a picture of Liz spanking me. And there have been occasions when I have had friend round working on my PC (impossible to avoid sometimes) when I have had a bit of explaining to do. With male colleagues, I can laugh it off, after all, it is a common enough fantasy, but one of these days I`m sure one of my visitors is going to be a woman. If that happens, I may have to risk Liz`s wrath!

Its so nice to talk openly at last, and to feel confident enough to do so, and I have a lot to thank you for. If you can, and are willing, please make my email available to others, I would enjoy sharing experiences.

Yours, with very best wishes

Gerald (and Liz. She didn't help me compose this, but she is with me in spirit).

Dear Aunt Kay:

My wife is really getting into the DWC in a big way. In a very short time, I have learned that she is THE BOSS!!

Sheila tells me that she has taken many ideas from your true stories and fiction pages to complement her own. She has loaded me down with household chores and other assignments. It's my pleasure to do them because it makes her happy. For example, this place better be spotless. I think it's good for me too. She also read something about some guy having to write sentences. I get a lot of those.

She said that we men are by nature more immature and self destructive than women. She monitors every aspect of my conduct in a tireless manner. My days of eating unhealthy, drinking, missing work, skipping workouts, smoking, cussing, male ego and other such conduct is a thing of the past. My wife simply forbids it! I can see the improvement in my life.

My wife promises that she is going to make her man behave and "bring me up right". She tells me that a good husband should be disciplined regularly and severely by a wife who loves him.

I was not always the best at managing money. So, I now turn over my check to my wife. She deposits all of it into an account that is in her name only. Our house is also in her name. In reality, I am broke. We both felt that economic and financial power would give her even a greater sense of control. She loves the way things are between us. If I ever pulled out of our disciplinary agreement, Sheila might be inclined to leave and leave me with no money. Not that I need it, but that gives me more incentive to stay with the program.

One area of concern: My wife spanks for results. Of course my wife has absolute freedom and my blessing to spank as long and as hard as she feels necessary to get the results that she wants. But Aunt Kay, it sure does hurt! I'll be at my limit. I'll be crying and thinking I just can't take it any more. But then, I'll look over my shoulder and see Sheila with this devilish grin on her face. I'll know that she's not finished yet and there is not one damn thing I can do about it! She's tough. But I wouldn't want it any other way.

Love the site!

Herbert

All things considered, Susan had been quite patient. For a good ten minutes she had listened to David's rantings flow through the telephone in a seemingly incessant stream. She was not altogether unsympathetic to his frustration. But nevertheless, he was just being plain grumpy and irritable. And the solution was all too obvious. "David, stop. This discussion has ended and you are in for a long hard spanking tonight. Maybe that will give you something else to think about for a while," Susan pronounced.

Immediately a bolt of terror flashed through the pit of David's gut. A trip over Susan's knee was not the stuff of fun and fantasy. He did not want a dose of Susan's hairbrush. And he especially did not want one tonight. Already depressed and upset over their argument, he was definitely "not in the mood" for the thorough bottom blistering that he knew Susan would deliver.

The immediate change in David's tone and attitude was nothing short of remarkable, "Oh, please, Susan, not that, not tonight. I am really, really sorry. I just got carried away, that's all. You know how much I love you, baby. I never meant to upset you. I promise - not another word about it." Susan replied softly but unyieldingly, "I know you love me, David, and you'll love me even more after I finish spanking you tonight. I know you don't think so now, but you will. I love you, too, David, and you'll just have to trust me - you need a good sound spanking. It really is for the best. But I have to get back to work now. So I'll see you when I get home, and we'll take care of it right then and there, and get it out of the way. Bye now."

David slowly hung up the phone and buried his face in his hands, a sinking feeling settling into his stomach as his bottom began to twitch and tingle involuntarily as he nervously anticipated his forthcoming ordeal. Soon, David sank into a solemn reverie. He had only himself to blame. He had been in the wrong, and they both knew it. And why he had lost control and started with his whining and ranting was incomprehensible. He had been spanked more than once for that same thing, he certainly should have known better.

David briefly pondered the idea that maybe this was the time to give up their disciplinary relationship. Susan had told him that he could opt out of the arrangement at any time if he had truly decided it was not for him after all. But she would not go back and forth with it, playing games. He either wanted to be a disciplined husband, or he didn't. She would not leave him over his decision to cancel their contract, but neither would she remain in a relationship with constant bickering and arguing. If he did not choose to have her impose discipline on him, he would have to find a way to become self disciplined.

But he would not end it and they both knew it. In spite of his genuine dread of the excruciatingly painful paddlings he received bare bottom over Susan's knee, he did not really want to give them up. The spankings were undeniably both unpleasant and quite painful, but the idea of his submission in a way that redeemed him through very real physical pain, and in a way that many would find humiliating and degrading satisfied him in a way that was completely beyond his comprehension.

And, he had asked for the relationship, he reflected, as his thoughts drifted back over the past couple of years.

It had started as play, with David introducing spanking into their sexual explorations. While spanking had been a life long fantasy for David, Susan had thought it somewhat kinky at first, but had gradually warmed to the idea. Although they had switched some at first, it soon became evident that David's passion was to bottom, and Susan surprised herself by discovering how much she enjoyed the sense of power and domination she experienced when playing the top role.

The spankings had remained light and playful for a time, with Susan giving David relatively brief hand spankings, and maybe a few swats with a padded ping pong paddle, prior to their making love. David had experienced little actual pain, mostly a mild sting, with an occasional zinger thrown in for good measure.

However, David's real desire, so he believed, was a real disciplinary spanking, the kind he had read of so many times in the stories that appeared on the Net. Countless times he had fantasized about being taken over a woman's knee, and his bare bottom subjected to a long and hard paddling with the hairbrush, the kind that would leave his rear red and blistered, and tears in his eyes.

But David just couldn't bring himself to express these secret desires to Susan, who was still relatively uneducated in the ways of spanking. He was already struggling with the idea that he was somehow diminishing his masculinity by taking the bottom role, even in the mild spanking play they had enjoyed thus far. To ask her to deliver the kind of disciplinary spanking he so often fantasized about, and to explain what that entailed, was simply too much for him.

The fateful event that was to change all that was so simple it was almost anticlimactic. David found a web site. He was just surfing when he stumbled on "The Disciplinary Wives Club". Here he marveled as "Aunt Kay" encouraged wives to take matters "in hand" with their bad boy husbands, and even included detailed instructions on how to properly spank their errant spouses. And they were exactly the kind of spankings he so often fantasized about, perhaps even more so.

He had read with almost morbid fascination Aunt Kay's section on techniques, in which she advocated bare bottom, over the knee spankings, delivered long and hard with the legendary hairbrush. When hubby was finally let up, she had postulated, his eyes should be wet with tears, his knees quivering, and his bottom very well blistered. Her concluding remark had been, "The longer and harder you spank, the more he will love you for it."

That final remark haunted him, touched something deep and dark far down in his soul, as he read the pages in the site over and over. This was it, he finally admitted to himself, the realization of his fantasies, to be the disciplined husband of a disciplinary wife.

Some time later, Susan returned from her shopping trip. And David, in a great leap of faith and courage, managed to smile and say, as casually and light heartedly as he could possibly manage, "Susan, come take a look at this web site. It looks like it's right up your alley."

Susan glanced over David's shoulder to see what he had found, and immediately said, "Wow!, what's this about?"

She spent an hour or so seemingly engrossed in the information emanating from the screen, as David nervously scurried about, putting groceries away, making Susan a cup of coffee, and generally doing anything he could think of stay busy, trying not to drive himself insane wondering what she must be thinking.

Finally, Susan turned away from the screen. She remained silent for a moment, seeming to gather her thoughts, and then said simply, "Dave, is this what you want?"

Dave hesitated and considered changing his mind, telling her that he just thought it was "funny" or "interesting", considering their spanking play. But, he had come so far to even show her the site, he couldn't lie to her now.

Soon he replied, softly, seriously, "Yes, Susan, I think it is. At least I think I would like to experience it."

Susan surprised him with a smile and a giggle, "Oh good! I was hoping you would say that. Are you ever in for it the next time you leave the toilet seat up!"

They laughed together, and with the ice broken, talked for hours about their desires, and the details of their arrangement. David was able to confess his most secret fantasies, and Susan was able to admit that their spanking play had sparked something she didn't know was in her, a passion for disciplinary dominance.

By dinnertime, they had typed up a preliminary contract outlining their rules for a disciplinary relationship, and had gone out to their favorite steak house to celebrate their new arrangement.They had even stopped at the mall on the way home to find Susan a real wooden hairbrush.

They had no sooner arrived home than Susan followed David into the bathroom to discover that he had left the toilet seat up. "Damn it, David," Susan exclaimed, "we just talked about you not leaving the seat up this afternoon. You know that was one of the things we agreed you would be spanked for."

David stammered, "Sorry, I just forgot. You know it takes a while to break old habits. But I promise I won't forget again." David really had forgotten to lower the seat, lost in thought about all that had transpired through the day. And he was nervous. In spite of all his fantasies, the reality of the contract and the purchase of the hairbrush was beginning to sink in. He began to wonder if he had made a very big mistake.

"Well, David, we're just going to help you make sure you don't forget again. It looks like we'll be breaking in this hairbrush sooner than I expected. Take off your pants and meet me at the sofa," Susan replied curtly.

David gulped, "Don't you think I should get one warning, Susan? Don't you think that would be more fair?"

"David, you just signed a contract this afternoon agreeing to no arguments about your discipline, and now you're already arguing.You asked for this arrangement, and you're going to live up to it. Now, do as I said." And with that, Susan had turned and walked away.

David removed his pants and underwear and followed Susan into the living room, finding her sitting in the middle of the sofa, hairbrush in hand.

Susan said nothing, but tapped the brush against her thigh, the signal they had agreed on for him to lie across her legs.

Remembering that the contract called for extra punishment for anything other than immediate compliance to this signal, he quickly laid him across her legs, the sofa supporting his body. As was suggested in "Aunt Kay's" spanking tips, she wrapped her right leg over his two legs to help hold him in place once the spanking began.

David's mind briefly wandered to remember the one time a few weeks later when he had argued about crossing her knee on command. That had been a serious error. Susan had jumped up and beat him mercilessly across his bottom and thighs. Grabbing his arm, she had chased him around in a circle, furiously swinging the paddle against his bare bottom and thighs, re-enacting that age old spanking dance. He had finally managed to drop to the floor and beg for mercy. But Susan had been hardly merciful. He had still received his longest spanking to date over Susan's knee,and after corner time, had been soundly switched for his disobedience. He had been reduced to sobbing by the time the nasty switch had worked its painful black magic on him. He would never make that mistake again.

Susan had begun that first spanking with, "David, I simply will not tolerate you leaving the toilet seat up. It is thoughtless and inconsiderate. We have already discussed that you will get a spanking for this, and that is exactly what is going to happen. And you can believe that you will be remembering this spanking every time you sit down for a few days to come, and maybe that will help you remember that I have to sit down on the toilet. Do you understand?"

Susan swung her hairbrush for the first time.WHACK!! It was only a moderately hard swat but it was far different from the mild swats that he had received by hand and occasionally the padded ping pong paddle. It stung and burned and hurt. The very real pain of the hairbrush was a shock; David really had no idea of the reality of what he had so often fantasized about, but with first crack of the hairbrush, reality became all too clear.

He gasped, "Yes ma'am, I understand. I promise it will never happen again." "I hope not, David, because the very next time you do, you will find yourself right back over my knee again, and I will have to spank you much harder and longer. Do you understand that also?"

WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! Susan alternated cheek to cheek, striking a bit harder this time, finding that she enjoyed the sense of power she felt. David yelped, the hairbrush stung him badly. He had no idea that it would really hurt so much. "Yes ma'am, I promise I understand. I promise I will never ever forget again."

"Well, we'll see. I'm sure you will try to remember after the I get through giving your bottom a good long blistering." WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! Susan delivered two to each cheek in rapid succession. She noted with satisfaction the pink glow that already beginning to form on David's rear.

David groaned and buried his face in the sofa cushion. It hurt so bad. He could never have imagined.

"You really should be ashamed, David, having to have your bottom spanked like this. You would think a grown man could remember a simple little thing like leaving the toilet seat down."

WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! Susan increased both the tempo and force of the swats, quickly administering four sharp swats to each cheek. His bottom began to turn a deeper shake of pink. David gasped, yelled, and swore into the pillow as the paddle burned and tormented his exposed back side. His rear was stinging badly now and he felt moisture beginning to form in the corners of his eyes.

WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! WHACK!! Susan moved lower this time, catching the underside of his buns with four brisk strokes each. She wanted to make sure she painted his entire bottom a bright red by the time she finished with him. If David really wanted to be a disciplined husband, she was going to make very sure that he knew what he was in for.Tears were forming in David's eyes now, while he gasped and moaned as the merciless hairbrush set his ass on fire. He hoped he wouldn't cry, but the pain was so overwhelming.

Susan paused for a moment. She had followed Aunt Kay's advice to begin with sets of four and then eight before proceeding to the main spanking, a warm up to make sure the shock didn't overwhelm him. David did appear to be over the initial shock. His head was buried in the pillow and his breathing was heavy. He seemed to have accepted his fate and given in to the ordeal to come.

So Susan got down to business, peppering David's quickly reddening bare bottom with a nonstop rain of wooden terror. She made certain no spot went unpunished, painting his entire rear and upper thighs a colorful collage of pink, red, and purple.

David braced himself when the swats resumed, hoping he could endure the next set without totally losing his composure. But the terrible hairbrush kept coming, viciously attacking his tortured bottom. The stinging pain was overpowering, nothing like he had ever imagined. Somewhere around the twelfth swat of the latest barrage, he finally gave in and pleaded, "Susan, please stop! I've learned my lesson. I swear!"

Susan only replied, "Stop!? Hon, I've only just begun. I'm going to make damn sure you know what you have coming to you when you don't listen to me! And I'm going to make sure you keep on remembering every time you sit down for the next week." At Susan's pronouncement of an extended sentence, David completely lost his composure, kicking, begging, pleading, and screaming as the paddle continued its relentless and savage assault on his battered buttocks.

Susan was not at all sympathetic to David's plight. She briefly considered that she must have a natural inclination for this sort of disciplinary dominance. She was definitely experiencing a sense of satisfaction from the damage she was inflicting upon David's now red bottom, as well as his dramatic repentance.

The paddling continued unabated. Susan worked the hairbrush repeatedly over every square inch of David's glowing backside.She alternated cheek to cheek, thigh to thigh, top to bottom, then delivered several swats to a chosen sweet spot, before moving to the next.

David was lost to all but the searing, burning pain of the wood against his skin. He had tried to be strong and resist it, but it was too much. Finally he gave into it. Tears turned to sobs as the paddle continued its seemingly unending dance across his severely tormented bottom.

And as David began to sob, Susan decided he had learned what a real spanking was all about. She knew this had been his fantasy, and she also knew that he was surely shocked by the reality of what he had asked for. His bottom was a solid red, spotted with purple bruises. He had kicked and screamed, begged for her to stop, and now was sobbing openly. Certainly, he must have had no idea of the truth behind his fantasy.

She completed David's ordeal with a dozen swats, the hardest yet, all to the exact center of his bottom. David's sobs became gut wrenching, but it was finally over. Slowly he had recovered, as Susan gently rubbed his bottom, and then taken him into her arms.

He found himself reflecting warmly on that first spanking, in spite of the awful pain to his backside. He vividly recalled the soreness he had experienced when sitting for the next several days.David's reverie was suddenly interrupted by the clammer of the telephone. It was Susan calling on her cell phone to let him know that she would be home shortly and that he should assume the waiting position, meaning that when she walked through the door he would have to be standing naked in the corner. It was one of a number of traditions that had been established during his last two years as a disciplined husband.

David wasted no time stripping and heading for the corner. She would be home in no time and he certainly did not want to earn a switching by not complying to the disciplinary rules Susan had set. A switching, in addition to whatever spanking he had coming anyway, had become the expected punishment for failing to follow the rules of discipline. David hated the switch the worst of all, and Susan knew it. So she had reserved it for what she deemed the most serious of offenses, failure to immediately comply with her disciplinary instructions. If she allowed any slack with this, she knew he would soon become un-manageable. And she did not allow any slack at all. She showed absolutely no mercy when she was had to use the switch on him, and David tried his best to make sure she did not have to use it often.

Momentarily Susan came in the front door and was immediately all business. She removed the hairbrush from her purse before setting it down.

Susan began, "David, how many time have you been spanked for ranting, bitching, and whining - five or six times? Well, obviously you are not getting the message. And I've really had enough of it. So, I'm going to try extra hard to make sure you get the message today. Just so you know what to expect - you'll be getting the hairbrush and the strap. We'll see if that will get through to you."

David's heart sunk, turning into a pit of fear and terror in his gut. His usual punishment was an over-the-knee hairbrushing, and occasionally a standup session with the big paddle or the strap, but, with the very rare exception of a switching for resistance, he'd never received an over-the-knee spanking and a standup spanking. The dread of his forthcoming ordeal was nearly overwhelming. It took all his will power not to argue, but knowing that arguing would add a switching to his punishment helped him to merely acquiesce and say, "Yes ma'am".

Susan sat on the couch and said, "Come here, David." David walked to stand on her right said, knowing the drill all too well. Susan looked somewhat irritated and asked, "And what do you say David?" David gulped and realized he should have asked for his punishment without prompting. It was another of the rules that Susan had implemented over time.

He quickly stammered, "Susan, I am so very sorry for ranting today. I know very well that I should have controlled myself. Would you please spank me, as long as hard as you think necessary, to help me learn to behave properly in the future?"

Susan answered simply, "Very well," and tapped the brush against her leg. David quickly laid himself over her knee. Susan promptly repositioned him, wrapping one leg around him. And Susan immediately went to work, drowning his bare bottom in a veritable deluge of hard, stinging whacks. Lecturing him the whole time, she paddled his quickly reddening backside nonstop. As David had asked in the ritual request for his punishment, she did indeed spank him long and hard, administering perhaps two hundred cracks of the brush before finally finishing in a fierce volley that left David heaving and sobbing.

Still sniffling, try to regain his composure, Susan had led David to the corner. There Susan had ordered him to stand, hands at his side, and not to dare even think of rubbing his well blistered bottom.

His reprieve was short-lived, however, as Susan shortly returned with strap in hand. It was an old fashioned razor strap, one that she had found rummaging in through an old chest in her parents' attic. It was now kept well oiled and ready for use. David had felt its bite a good dozen times before, but never immediately after a paddling. His bottom was still stinging and burning as Susan ordered him to assume the position.

David could barely stand the thought that he would be whipped again so soon after the very thorough paddling he had just received, but he did not hesitate, not daring to risk a switching also. So he bent over the back of the spanking chair, grasping the seat firmly with both hands.

Susan wasted no time. As soon as he was bent over, the strap cut through the air and landed terrifyingly across his upper thighs. David literally screamed in agony.

But Susan showed no sympathy. Again and again the strap sliced through the air and cut into David's already well spanked bottom. By the time the twentieth stroke landed on his scourged rear, David was almost incoherent with pain and sobbing vociferously. His bottom was a jumble of red, black, blue, and purple. Bruises and strap marks intermingled.

Susan paused there, briefly wondering if she had perhaps gone too far. But remembering the advice given to her online by another disciplinary wife - better to err on the side of severity if you really want to make your point, she told David, "There will be five more. I want you to remember with each one what this punishment is for. I expect you to take control of yourself. I do not expect to hear anymore of your ranting, bitching, and whining ever again. If I have to spank you again for this, God help you. Do you understand?"

David managed, between sobs, to reply, "Yes ma'am, I understand." And then Susan delivered her final five cracks of the strap, each one finding its way across the middle of his very well spanked bottom. And when it was over, it was over. The debt was paid, penance was done. Susan helped David up and held him, gently rubbing his burning rear. David sobbed, both from pain and emotional release. "That's ok," she whispered, "it's all done now. I'm sure you've learned you lesson well this time."

EPILOGUE

After David had been treated with lotion, and recovered somewhat, they had gone out to their favorite restaurant. And despite some not inconsiderable discomfort sitting, David found himself in quite a good mood. The food, drinks, and service were excellent as always at the small steak house. However, it was so much more than that.

He sipped on his drink, reflecting. He had just received perhaps the most severe spanking that Susan had ever given him. Yet, he was content and satisfied. The air was clear. There had been no arguments or anger. He had misbehaved and Susan had lovingly disciplined him for it. He had taken his punishment and all was forgiven. It was over and done with.

He glanced across the table at Susan with warmth in his heart and a twinkle in his eye, realizing how much he loved this woman. She was not just his wife, but his lover, best friend, and soul mate. She did so much for him, took such good care of him, made him laugh when no one else could. Yet she would not hesitate to turn him over her knee and blister his bare bottom until he cried like a well spanked school boy, if she felt his behavior merited it. And suddenly he realized, just as Susan had predicted, he did

A Story by Marta

Marta and Steve had been married three years, and had not yet started a family. They had played some spanking scenes as fantasy enactment, and Marta sometimes found it exciting. But lately, Steve had started to pick on Marta about her spankings; in fact, he had become quite overbearing.

"Marta, I want you to spank me hard with the hairbrush. Just because you like those little patty-cake spankings doesn't mean that I do. You think light spankings are exciting, and you might enjoy really whaling into me if you would give it a try. The bottom line is that you are not satisfying my needs, and you don't seem to care. I keep telling you that if you could use spanking for real discipline in addition to sex, and we would both benefit."

"Steve, you always want kinky sex and spanking. Don't you understand that women prefer tender sex and romantic lovemaking?"

"Oh, Marta, you know that I love everything about you, the way you look, smell, taste. I'll do anything to meet YOUR needs. I can't help it that my fantasy is that you will get strict with me and spank me to enforce your will. Sometimes it seems like you don't even care about my needs at all!"

"Quit being so pushy! First, I don't think you even know what you're asking for. It's one thing to fantasize about being spanked hard, but a good dose of that heavy brush would bruise you purple and make you cry like a baby. I swear, I think you have a case of arrested development; you sound more like some adolescent than a grown man. I probably SHOULD spank some sense into you. All this constant nagging is getting very tiresome, and I don't appreciate it one bit. I'll bet I could end all this silliness in a few minutes over my lap if I wanted to."

"OK, please do it. I will submit to anything you propose. But I think we need some mechanism to assure that you don't chicken out and let me off too easy."

"Steve, you are so patronizing about this; it's really getting on my nerves."

"Sorrrree! I just want a wife who will TRY to meet my needs."

"OK, buster, I'm gonna meet your needs, and then you will be 'sorrree', after all. As a matter of fact, I know a little more about hard spanking that I have ever let on to you, and I think maybe it is time for me 'share MY feelings'. It seems like all we've been hearing about lately are YOUR needs and desires. You want a good spanking? Go into the bedroom and take off your jeans and boxers. I want to see a bare backside when I come in there in five minutes. And you will speak only when I ask you to. Do you understand?"

"Yes. . . . Thank you."

"You are going to thank me, all right. You'll thank me for stopping. Except you'll be crying so hard I'll have to guess at what you're saying. Do not speak a word when I come in there, if you know what's good for you. Now, get!"

When she came in the bedroom, he was standing facing the corner (she hadn't asked for that, but she liked it, and made a mental note), bare-bottomed and shivering with lust. He couldn't see what she was holding: a deck of playing cards and her old sorority paddle. She went to the closet and got two bathrobe sashes and two of his tackier neckties (not to worry, he had plenty more). In a bossy tone, she demanded (although he had not moved an inch), "Do NOT take your eyes out of the corner. Now, where is that hairbrush you think you like so much?"

"It's in my underwear drawer."

"How appropriate. Now get over on the bed. Take the reading pillow and drape yourself over it, on your stomach, you know just how I mean."

As he scurried to comply, she went for the hairbrush. It was a formidable implement, probably an antique, based on its heft and polish. This will do just fine, she thought, but the maple paddle resonated with her, too, and she wanted to swing it as well. Tapping the hairbrush against her palm a few times, she was glad she was not the one on the receiving end. Her college days had been an education in more than one way.

She noticed his obvious arousal and smirked at his selfish innocence. She would take care of that in about 3 swats. Maybe 2. And then she would give him about 100 more. At least. She mused to herself, "he might have warm memories in the morning, but he'll be weeping and wailing before these ties come loose tonight."

In short order, she had secured each of his legs and arms to the bed frame, with his buttocks presented at a perfect angle. He had a handsome pair, shapely and springy and altogether inviting. She tapped them with the brush and decided they were quite resilient. This was going to be fun.

"Now, Steve, I have never told you about this before. When I was in sorority, about ten of the best-looking of the actives chose several of their favorite pledges each year to join a select group known as "The Clique". There was a secret hazing day, when we went to one girl's father's hunting camp, and they made us play something called the 'Game of Chance.' But, take it from me, there was no chance involved. We got blistered with sorority paddles, just like sorority girls from an earlier era. They dressed us in thin cotton leotards, and the paddles hurt more than you can imagine. And those leotards were embarrassingly revealing, especially bent over like that! I think I got it worse because my rear is so prominent. You know, the squeaky wheel gets the grease, and I guess the girl with the protuberant rump is the one that gets whacked the most and the hardest. What was really unfair was that, for some reason, I felt ashamed when I sat for the next four days, like it was my own fault they had been so mean to me.

"So tonight, Stevie, you and I are going to play the Game of Chance, and I think you can guess who is going to be the loser. You want a hard spanking? I'm betting you will never ask for one again, Buster. Because when you hear the rules, you will understand that there is not too much 'chance' involved." And my goal is for you to feel a little bit ashamed of your sore bottom when you sit tomorrow."

She laid out the paddle, the hairbrush and the deck of cards where he could see them. Then, she explained the rules: "Since your hands are tied, I will draw the cards for you. Here is how it works.

"We will shuffle the deck and draw a card. If it is a joker, you will get 10 swats with the sorority paddle, as hard as I can give them, then we re-shuffle, and draw again. If it is any other card, we will try to match it on the next draw. The match card will be the other card which is the same denomination and color. So the match for the 7 of hearts is the 7 of diamonds. The game is over when we draw the match card. Every time we don't draw the match card, you pay a penalty. Then penalty for getting the wrong card is two swats with the hairbrush. If you are lucky, you won't get the paddle. But I don't think you are going to be that lucky.

Steve did the math in his head. "That could be about a hundred and four swats."

"Actually, Stevie, you are forgetting about the rule with the Joker: Any time you draw a joker, I'll use the sorority paddle to give you 10. Those will be memorable, I promise. And then . . . . I'll reshuffle and we will keep going for that match card, smacking your precious rear merrily as we go."

"My God, Marta, that could go on for hours, because the chances of getting the Joker and the match card are the same."

"Sorry to break some more bad news, Sweetheart: each deck of playing cards comes with 2 jokers, and this is a brand new pack. And I am not going to let up until we match, no matter how many times we have to re-shuffle. In the sorority, those wicked actives put 3 extra jokers in the deck, and that's why I had to ride back to the sorority house laying on my tummy. But I wouldn't do that to you, because 2 jokers is enough."

And so they played. Marta didn't swing the hairbrush full strength in the beginning, because she knew that he was going to be tied over the bed for quite a while. She just used her forearm, with a nice wrist snap for a very smart crack against his plump flesh. The first card drawn--the one to match--was the Ace of Hearts, perfect because it is bright red and shaped rather like a pair of buttocks. She giggled with delight. From then on, each draw was punctuated by two loud cracks of the flat wooden brush on his handsome bottom. They got harder each time as her confidence grew. The hairbrush made quite an impression during those first few minutes. In fact, he was sweating and struggling by about the 7th or 8th draw.

And then came the first joker. After she had applied the paddle the prescribed 10 times, the meaty portion of his backside was a shade resembling Cabernet Savignon. She gave him a brief rest, and then, leaving the Ace of Hearts turned up, she re-shuffled. Her cool demeanor as she shuffled just broke him emotionally, and he began to cry a river of tears as she repeatedly shuffled and cut the deck, taunting him. The next time the hairbrush smacked down was pure agony, and from that point on, he wailed aloud with each solid smack. And they were all solid. Toward the end, he stopped struggling and crying out; he just sobbed gently and resigned himself to the ongoing conflagration in the southern hemisphere. He almost seemed to be ignoring the cards as she turned them, just absorbing the swats as they rained down relentlessly. That is, until the next Joker, when he moaned again and trembled a bit.

Actually, his luck turned out to be not so bad, considering the odds. He only drew three Jokers, but she used the paddle with the kind of leverage Martina Hingis puts into her forehand slam. The rectangular imprints of the paddle created an artistic, not to mention, dramatic, visual delight. By the time the Ace of Diamonds turned up, he had received about 120 with the brush in addition to the 30 with the paddle. NOW he knew what a hard spanking felt like. And it was not sexy, not at all. Not to Steve, that is. But Marta, well, she was quite stimulated. So when she untied him, the first order of business was to lay back and place both hands on the crown of his head, to direct him nonverbally to his familiar duties. Her relief was speedy and absolute, and she more-or-less passed out with exhaustion. He laid beside her, on his tummy of course, and eventually drifted off asleep.

In the morning, at the breakfast table, he ate standing up. Her first question, of course, was: "Well, are you satisfied? Was that the spanking you wanted?"

"It hurts so badly I almost couldn't take a shower. I tried to put on jeans but had to wear baggy pants instead. I can sit--barely--but I don't think I'll be wanting a spanking anytime soon."

"Well, what you want is no longer what concerns me. What I want is some respect and understanding of my wishes, and now I know how to get that. I really should have done this sooner."

"Marta, you really got my attention last night, and I don't want any more of that any time soon. It wasn't sexually rewarding for me at all, I'm afraid."

"Good, it wasn't supposed to be. Just expect to receive more of the same any time you displease me."

"But . . . wh-wh-wh-what if I don't think it's fair?"

"Too bad. Since I intend to spank you whenever you are disrespectful or sarcastic to me, I'm sure you usually WON'T think it's fair. Just expect me to settle all our little disagreements over my lap from now on: rudeness, selfishness, thoughtlessness, all your bad habits. And I am not going to tolerate your rudeness or abuse directed at any other people either. And that especially includes my mother and her boyfriend. I really resented what you said to her about him last Tuesday. It was WAY over the line, and you will be punished if I hear anything like that again."

"Oh, come on! He's a pompous jerk, Marta, and your mother is a fool if she can't see through his act."

"Young man, there's one person who is acting like a fool at this minute, and it's you. I just told you what to expect when you talk like that. You must be deliberately testing me. Go get the hairbrush and march right back here and take down your trousers. We will NOT have ridicule and disrespect about my family."

"Marta, please. I can barely sit. My rear hurts when I walk. I'm sorry. You don't have to spank me."

"Steve, when you are to be spanked, there shall be no discussion or disagreement. I want you in that corner, pants down, while I finish eating. Then we are going to have a dialog on my terms. I think about 50 swats with your favorite implement will do you a world of good right now. And guess what: I could give you a hundred without straining my arm or my conscience one bit. As a matter of fact, I will do whatever I need to get your attention. Now bring me the hairbrush and get in the corner with your pants down, unless you want more than 50. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Ma'am," as he wiped away a tear with a trebling hand. He waited in the corner while she finished her leisurely breakfast and a second cup of coffee. She moved her straight backed kitchen chair to an open space where she could easily raise her arm all the way back behind her head.

"OK, Bad Boy, turn around and get over my lap."

As he turned she disapprovingly noted that he was once again sexually excited. Tsk, tsk. His learning experience was going to be an ongoing one. She made a silent oath to herself: we WILL make this marriage work, but it will take some time and effort. She involuntarily squirmed a little against the chair, and licked her lips with anticipation. "Right over, young man, and put your right hand behind your back. I want you to work on staying still. And I want you to listen to me because we have a few important things to discuss. I don't think you will be wanting me to have to repeat myself!"

My husband and I have only recently discovered DWC on the Internet, but when we did, it was wonderful. We found that we were not alone. I only wish there was a branch of the club here in the UK.

Of course we knew of S & M, but we have never seen our relationship in that light. I have disciplined Tom since the second year of our marriage and I have to say not only has it made our marriage better but without it we would probably not have got through to our third anniversary. Tom was always headstrong and selfish, and our early married life saw many rows. One night, after a particularly acrimonious set-to, he said, "You treat me like one of your pupils." I shot back, "No I don't. If I did I would be caning you right now."

It was a good example of saying what you don't mean while having a row. I was a 26 year-old schoolteacher and had no right to use the cane. But I had often sent boys and girls to their respective heads for the cane after being advised by a teacher that the only way to deal with a particularly difficult class was to let them know early on that I would not hesitate to do so. Once I was present as a witness when a girl was being punished for a particularly nasty case of bullying and admired the cool calm way the girl's head brought the rebellious girl to submit to the six strokes to which she was sentenced.

Back to that evening. My husband hesitated for a moment, then said, "You don't mean that." He was probably right, but in times like that you don't back down, and I said I did. In bed, he tried to snuggle up to me, but I rejected his advances, and both of us stayed awake silently for a long time. But the change in his attitude did not go unnoticed and it started a train of thought. By this time I was pretty sure that our marriage was heading for the rocks and wondered whether it was even worth trying to save. Next day at school I phoned the company which supplied disciplinary equipment. After a discussion with a saleslady, I ordered two canes, a middle-weight one and another which was described as a 'Reformatory cane' suitable for use on rebellious adolescents.

A few days later the doorbell rang and Tom returned from answering it with a narrow parcel a yard long addressed to me. He asked what was in it but I said it was something I was collecting for my sister who was away. When he had left for work I took it to my study and examined the two canes, swishing them through the air. The reformatory cane gave a deeper note than the other, but both gave me a feeling of power. I locked them away in my cupboard and awaited a suitable moment.

It came after a visit to my family. These visits always put Tom in a bad mood because he thinks that my father, a gentleman of the old school, secretly despises him.

Tom is a fast, skillful but impatient driver and I often had to tell him to slow down. On the return home he was more aggressive than usual and by the time I got home my legs were like jelly. Tom went to garage the car, and I had a stiff whisky. I decided that now was the time and went to my study cupboard, took out the lighter cane and placed it on my desk. My study also has a long table for laying out materials for lessons. I piled these unceremoniously on the floor. When I heard Tom come into the house I called him to come up in a peremptory tone of voice.

He entered the room with a frown on his face and saw me sitting at my desk. A second later he saw the cane in front of me. I remembered the school caning I had witnessed and looked coldly at him, saying "Some time ago you asked me whether I meant it when I said that I should cane you. Well, I did. Your behavior today was disgusting and I have had more than enough of it. You submit to a caning here and now or we can call this marriage off." I was amazed at my own coolness as I watched emotions warring in his face. I felt entirely unemotional. Either he submitted, or I would gather my things together and go back to my parents.

Tom's mouth had gone dry. He licked his lips, started to say something and fell silent. Taking his silence as submission, I told him to go to the end of the table, take down his trousers and bend over. He hesitated for a moment then took two paces to the table. His hands went to his belt, then he looked back at me as I was rising, cane in hand. I gestured to the table and he lowered his trousers and bent over. I knew then that I had won, but he had left his underpants on and his knees were bent so his bottom did not present a very good target.

Curtly, I told him to stand again, take his shorts down and bend over further, stretching as though trying to grasp the far end. Now he was well positioned. I said, "Twelve strokes" in a tone which brooked no argument and stepped up beside him. I folded his shirt back and pushed it out of the way and measured my position. I wasn't sure how hard to strike. School canings were delivered over clothing so they were not much of a guide. I decided to feel my way carefully. The first stroke got little reaction from him, nor the second. The third and fourth drew little gasps but the fifth was rewarded with a distinct "Ow" and an involuntary movement. I gave another five at about the same strength, then another a good deal harder. He tried to rise but when I snapped, "Stay down", he subsided back into position for the hard final stroke.

I told him to get up and dressed and went back to my desk. When he had reclothed himself I gestured him to stand in front of my desk. I noticed his face was pink and he was moist about the eyes and winced when he moved. "From now on you will behave yourself or receive a caning. You are not out of the wood by a long way. You were within a hair's breadth of divorce today and if you do not learn your lesson it may still come to that. Now go to bed."

I decided that I would sleep in the spare room and leave him to his thoughts. Before I went to sleep I smiled at the thought of how I had brought him to submission.

During the night he woke me, sliding into bed. Within a few minutes he was making love to me with a hard urgency. I touched his buttocks, feeling the hot lines where my cane had tamed him.

After completion, I said: "That was very good, much better than recently. You have just given me another reason to use the cane."

Dear Aunt Kay,

This is a written assignment punishment. My wife assigned me the task of writing to you about our last discipline session. You may ask why I allow my wife to discipline me. I love my wife deeply, and I too believe that men need regular discipline sessions.

Regards, John Smith

I got up early last Friday morning, 15 minute earlier than my wife, Susan, so that I could have the breakfast ready when she got up. It was one of my wife's rules to have breakfast ready and waiting. When Susan walked into the kitchen, I noticed that she was smartly dressed in a white blouse, a dark blue skirt that ended above her knee, dark blue nylons, and dark blue heels. I said, "Honey you look great", and I reflected on our first three years of marriage. She was a slim, trim 25, and just 3 years older than I was. She was in a bossy mood this morning. The most beautiful woman in my life, and she was my boss. She didn't say anything for awhile. She just looked at the expression on my face, trying to read what I was going to do. She told me, "Pour me a cup of coffee, my dear." She sipped on her coffee and continued to look at me. "Come straight home from work. You're going to get it good." All day at work, I had the jitters. My friends noticed that I was unusually quiet. When they asked, "What's wrong", I replied that I hadn't slept well the night before. I got out of work 10 minutes early to be sure that I would get home before my wife. I knew what would happen if I was late. Fortunately, I arrived home ahead of my wife.

When she arrived home, she was in a bossy mood. She ordered, "Go take a shower and put on your red, white and blue boxer shorts, the ones I gave you for your birthday. Then report to the living room. I have a surprise for you." I knew better than to argue with her when she was in one of those moods. I hurriedly showered and put on my shorts. As I walked back into the living room, I overheard my wife talking to one of her girlfriend on the phone. "Gloria, I spank on the bare and I spank hard," she said. Then she paused and said; "I'll see you in 5 minutes." After she hung up the phone, she walked into the living room, looked at me and said, "You remember Gloria. It just so happens that I promised to show her how I keep you in line." My knees turned to water and my stomach turned inside out as I thought of the prospect of having Gloria watch me put through my paces. Gloria had just graduated from college, so she was slightly younger than I was. Just then I heard a car pulling into the driveway. The doorbell rang and Gloria was ushered into the living room. My wife introduced us. "You already know each other." Gloria looked in my direction to acknowledge my presence. I could see that my brief attire embarrassed Gloria.

"Please honey!" I pleaded, "Not in front of her."

Susan reminded me, "Gloria's presence will add to your contrition." Susan retrieved a straight back chair and a paddle, and sat down in the middle of the living room. "I have a new paddle from Aunt Kay," she said as she brandished the dreadful instrument. It was an oversized oak S-paddle with holes drilled through it. I felt overwhelmed by the presence of the two women. Here I was standing in my undershorts in front of two fully dressed women. She explained to Gloria, "I'll warm him up first." She got up from the chair, walked behind me and ordered, "All right John, bend over and grab your ankles." "Please, honey," I begged.

"Bend all the way over John," she ordered again, walked around in front of me and ordered, "and keep those knees straight." She stood looming over me and demanded, "Do you remember what you called Aunt Kay or Gloria the other day?" "No."

She reminded me, "You called Aunt Kay an old S.O.B and you called Gloria a young S.O.B. She paused and said, "Now you're going to pay for that", and she walked around behind me, raised the paddle and brought it down with a snap of her wrists. Whack! Whack! Whack! She started out slowly delivering a dozen well-placed spanks. She followed through with a volley of a dozen hard, quick strokes. When she took a pause for only a few moments, my hands flew to my behind. Before I could massage it very much, she ordered, "Bottoms up", and she meted out one stroke after another. Whack! Whack! Whack! My bottom turned hotter and hotter, and sorer and sorer. "Ouch! Ouch!" My yelps became louder and louder. She gave me another dozen strokes. I was moaning loudly by the time that she called a break. She sat down on the chair and taunted me. "How do you like being spanked like a 10 year old boy in front of us girls?" "I loath it," I replied.

Then she gave the humiliating order, "Shorts down." I knew that I had to obey. "All the way down to your ankles," she ordered. I obediently pushed my shorts down off my hips and let them drop. I felt so exposed, but I knew it was good for me. She got up from her chair, walked behind me and ordered, "Bottoms up." She aimed. Whack! Whack! Whack! She struck right across the center of my cheeks. She was really hitting with force now, and I was moaning loudly. She took a 5-minute break and ordered, "stand at attention hands at your side", to cool off, my red bottom.. During the last part of the break, she explained to Gloria, "Now that his bottom is warmed up, it's time to get heavy", and, "heavy discipline is what a man needs." After the break was over, she looked at me and ordered, "Assume the position. Bend over." My bottom was already seething hot, and she reminded me, "We've only just begun." She swung with greater force. Whish the air rushed through the holes in the paddle. Splat the paddle thrashed into my bottom. I yelped. She raised her arm and delivered another Splat, and I let out another yelp. She delivered twelve well-centered (well-deserved) strokes squarely across each cheek. "Your bottom is turning red," she informed me and she took a break. By this time I was sobbing deeply. "It's time to take him over my knee for some ADT," she told Gloria. "Then she explained to Gloria, "ADT means advanced discipline technique." She finally sat down in the chair, raised her dress up to her waist showing her long beautiful legs and motioned to me, "Get over my lap." I knew I was in for it now and it was good for me. I walked over to her side, and did not resist as she effortlessly pulled me over her feminine knees. She told Gloria, "Now I spank in fours, first the top of each cheek and then each side in alternating strokes." Whack! Whack! Whack! Whack! "That's all one spank," she explained. "Now I give one dozen like that, 48 in all." The paddling went on and on, and my voice turned hoarse from yelling. I started to swing my legs high and wide in an awkward attempt to disperse the pain. Susan told me how much she liked to watch my fanny dance as my red-hot bottom squirmed, and my cheeks clenched and unclenched. "It's time to open him up for some ADT," Susan explained to Gloria without stopping the paddling. She told me to open my legs and she pulled me higher over her knee. "I get him nice and high like this and open up that tender crease at the base of his bottom. I give him 20 or 30 like this and that gets rid of his cockiness." I yelped as each blow fell next to my sensitive parts. I noticed that each blow was not falling as hard now. "I see some blisters now," Susan said as she caressed my bottom with her hands. She called a long 15-minute break, and she said, "I got a new cane from Aunt Kay." She returned with the dreaded cane and flexed it in front of me. When the break was over, my loving wife grasped me by the arm and ordered me to stand at attention behind the chair. She explained, "I want to finish this lesson with what I call a submission test. She grabbed me, pushed me down over the back of the chair, and said, "For this you bend over the back of the chair and grab the seat with your hands." As she spoke she nudged my legs apart, "and you keep your legs spread two feet apart and keep your bottom arched up nicely for your wife." Susan adjusted my position. "Arch your bottom up for your wife." "That spanking you just received was for being rude and nasty. The next lesson is to test your submissiveness. This is what you must do. You must hold your position, stand still on your tiptoes, and arch your bottom. You must ask for each stroke. If you get out of position, the stroke doesn't count, and you must get back into position, and ask for the next stroke." "You're going to get 12 in all. She walked behind me. "Arch your bottom and ask for the first one."

I obediently asked, "Please ma'am give me the first one."

"This is for calling Aunt Kay and Gloria SOBs," she obliged. The cane whirred through the air and made a Splat where it cut into my fleshy cheeks. "Ow," I shouted. I heard my wife telling me to ask for the next one. I obeyed again. "Please ma'am give me another one." She tapped the cane on my bottom and delivered another resounding blow. Splat! "That one doesn't count. You got out of position. Get back into position," Susan said loudly. I readjusted my position under her supervision. "Arch your bottom." I obeyed and asked for another --- and another --- an